


Catching Falling Stars

by lifeaftermeteor



Series: Across Time and Space [3]
Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Adoption, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Drama, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Family Drama, Kid Fic, M/M, Minor Allura/Lance (Voltron), Orphan Keith (Voltron), Orphan Shiro (Voltron), Post-Canon, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-03
Updated: 2020-11-28
Packaged: 2021-03-07 23:48:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 11,875
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26796136
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lifeaftermeteor/pseuds/lifeaftermeteor
Summary: The Voltron family has continued to grow, but - after one too many broken hearts - Shiro and Keith are resigned to remain childless. But when an Alliance combined mission circumvents a future attack, they are left with an unexplained anomaly who needs a home.
Relationships: Keith/Shiro (Voltron)
Series: Across Time and Space [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1443481
Comments: 24
Kudos: 58





	1. Paths Untread

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Remsyk](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Remsyk/gifts).



> This is the third and final installment of the "Across Time and Space" series. Hope you enjoy!!
> 
> I’d also like to give a shoutout to [ftlosd](https://ftlosd.tumblr.com/) and [their Leo AU](https://ftlosd.tumblr.com/tagged/galra-baby-au), [Jenos](https://www.twitter.com/JenosonTwit/) and [her Keahi AU](https://mobile.twitter.com/JenosonTwit/status/1202023076067717121), [BettaChief](https://twitter.com/BettaChief/status/1245237750795812865), and all the other Sheithers out there who have their own adorable “Shiro and Keith adopt a Galra Baby” brainchild. You’re all beautiful and lovely and I am happy to now officially be a member of this club, haha!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After watching their little Voltron family grow with the birth of Lance and Allura’s second child, Shiro and Keith decide to try to adopt. Unfortunately, it seems this path is one they were not meant to tread.

The Paladins had taken advantage of miraculously overlapping leave schedules and came together for a long-overdue reunion on New Altea, taking advantage of Coran’s generous hospitality. Truth be told, the Altean was all too happy for them all to be in one place again rather than spread across the far reaches of known space, as had become their collective prerogative. Allura and Lance had even brought their newest additions: Astrid, who had by now crossed solidly into the so-called ‘Terrible Twos,’ and her baby sister Estella.

They had spent days reminiscing, regaling one another of their adventures and exploits around the universe. And for a time, Keith had drifted in the comfortable familiarity of it all. 

But then came a day while he sat with Allura and Hunk that he watched Shiro play with Astrid. His heart launched itself into his throat at the sight and a thought that he had never before entertained struck him like a lightning bolt.

_Children._

Keith had never thought much about them, he realized with a start. Even after Lance and Allura had welcomed their second, it had never really occurred to him that this was not a thing reserved for only the select few. The universe was filled with children that needed homes—he had been one of them, after all—and the role of ‘parent’ was not exactly something one earned through the likes of simulator scores or logged flight hours. 

You _chose_ to become a parent. You _chose_ to raise a child, to guide them and teach them and protect them and love them. He could do that, he knew, and as he watched Shiro and Astrid that feeling melted into _want._

He _wanted_ that. 

* * *

Night crept softly across the New Altean sky. Shiro sighed, content to watch the colors shift overhead from the balcony of his and Keith’s suite in the capital’s diplomatic district. Coran had insisted on principle despite their objections, and Shiro had to admit that the view was spectacular. 

Behind him, the door to their suite slid aside and he heard Keith approach. “Hey,” Shiro murmured. Keith slid an arm around his waist and dropped a kiss to his shoulder as he sidled up beside him to join him at the balcony railing. 

For a time, they shared a comfortable silence and watched the stars emerge overhead. And then Keith asked, “What do you think about kids?”

“In general?”

“As in...having them.”

Shiro mulled the question for a time and felt a self-deprecating laugh bubble up past his lips. “I’m embarrassed to admit that I never really thought of it. I’m still playing catch-up on all the things I should’ve considered and never did.” He turned and leaned his hip against the railing so that he could look at his husband and partner. Keith had undone his braid for the time being, his raven locks cascading down his back as the night breeze tried to catch a strand or two to carry aloft. His gaze was set to the horizon, the planes of his face lit by the twin moons overhead. _Beautiful,_ Shiro thought and yet again handed his heart to the man before him, as he knew he always would.

Keith turned at last to meet his eyes and waited patiently for an answer. At last, Shiro confided, “I think I’d like that. With you. But we’re a team. What do you think?”

“I didn’t think anything of it until I saw you with Astrid and Stella. You...you’d be a great dad and—and I want that for you. For us.”

Shiro smiled. “So...kids?”

Keith smiled back in that shy, excited way he reserved just for Shiro. “Kids.”

* * *

After the Galra invasion, Earth had centralized and rebuilt much of its public services around surviving communities. One of those had been Plaht City, given its proximity to the last operational wartime Garrison base. Keith had found it ironic that the same system he had been part of as a kid was now the one they were engaging as a couple. Almost like it was meant to be, coming full circle. 

They had had a good interview with the administrators and had left feeling optimistic. After all, who _wouldn’t_ want to boast that they had placed a child in the care of not one but _two_ Black Paladins, one of them a senior officer with the Garrison to boot? If they could save the universe more than once, surely they could be trusted to provide a safe and nurturing home for a child. And there were so many just on Earth who needed good homes and loving parents.

The denial had hurt. In hindsight, perhaps their pride had fed their over-confidence.

“We’ll try again,” Shiro had assured Keith at the time. “This is only one of the agencies. There are dozens on Earth. We’ll try again.”

So they had nursed their bruised hearts and tried again. And again. And again…

The denials were always the same. While the agencies were grateful for their interest, they did not believe placing a child with them was in the best interest of their wards. With Shiro still on active duty with the Garrison, Keith still serving as the current Black Paladin, and most of their familial support off-planet, the agencies didn’t believe they could guarantee a stable environment. Additionally, it was likely that at least half the year would be spent on Daibazaal surrounded by its Galra citizenry while Keith saw to his other duties for the Republic. Too many of the children in the agencies’ care had seen firsthand what the Galra could do, and it was deemed ‘unwise’ to knowingly place them in such a home.

That last part had stung the most for Keith. Despite everything—all the progress, all the exchanges and socialization and reparations, all the work he himself had put into rebuilding—the Galra were and perhaps always would be the villains of so many stories. 

Again, Shiro broke through Keith’s mounting hurt with stubborn optimism. “Well, if they don’t want to send an Earth kid to Daibazaal, then maybe Daibazaal wouldn’t mind sending a Galra kid to Earth on occasion.”

“You’d be okay with that?” Keith had asked, a bit surprised.

Shiro had given him an encouraging smile through the video feed that connected them across space. “Why not?”

Unfortunately the Galra matrons were even more direct in their disapproval. It wasn’t that they didn’t believe the Black Paladins were trustworthy or otherwise suitable parent material for their charges, per se. It was that Daibazaal was rebuilding, like so many other planets and systems throughout the universe. And not just structurally and technologically, but culturally as well. Reclaiming their heritage and their history from the ashes of Zarkon’s reign meant having future generations to pass that heritage and history on to. Giving one of their own to two humans—even if one was half-Galra himself—didn’t support this broader endeavor. 

“We’ll try again,” Shiro had told him as he closed the file on-screen and turned his attention fully on the video feed, his gray eyes locking with Keith’s across the vast distance of space. “I’ll do some research. See what I can find. There’s bound to be someone...” 

It had sounded to Keith’s ears as if Shiro too was running out of steam, but he nodded all the same, acknowledging the plan before terminating the feed. That night, he had sat silently in his common area, curled into the corner of what passed for a couch on Daibazaal and studied the growing hurt. Like a blackhole, it had started devouring him from the inside out since that first denial and had only grown with every failed attempt since.

The next time they were together, they had tried one more Earth agency, one that had been known for taking in strays from the resistance as stowaways arrived on shuttles from all parts of the galaxy. It was a long shot, they had reasoned, but perhaps this time… Keith had told himself to keep his expectations in check, had told himself not to be affected… 

And when the inevitable denial came, it broke him.

“No more,” Keith said once they’d returned to Shiro’s quarters. He kicked off his boots and chucked his jacket in the general direction of the closet before wrapping his arms defensively around himself. “I’m not going to do this anymore. I can’t. I won’t.”

“Keith—”

But the rest of Shiro’s entreaty faded behind him as Keith moved into the living area and climbed onto the couch. He grabbed a pillow and promptly hid behind it, his arms and legs wrapping around the plushness and wished instead that he could tear it apart. He grit his teeth, feeling the fangs lengthen in his mouth. Tears stung his eyes and he hid his face against the cushion. 

He heard Shiro approach, his soft footsteps uncertain as he came near. There was a pause as he stood by the couch before taking a seat at the opposite side, giving Keith space. 

Silence stretched on between them and it tasted like defeat. Unseen, Keith bit his lip and felt hot tears spring from his eyes. It hurt. It hurt so much. That hole inside him had grown and grown and grown until now it felt like it had filled him and there was nowhere for it to go but out. His breath hitched, giving him away.

Quietly, Shiro murmured, “I promise I give better hugs than my couch cushions.”

Keith had to agree. He set the pillow aside and crawled over to collapse into Shiro’s waiting embrace. He scrubbed at his eyes, pressing his cheek against Shiro’s chest. Shiro dropped a soft kiss to the crown of his head and wrapped his arms around him, his prosthesis rubbing soothing circles against Keith’s back. 

The silence stretched between them again and Keith closed his eyes, grounding himself to the rhythmic thud of Shiro’s heart, the rise and fall of his chest as he breathed, the hands that pressed against him. 

Eventually, he took a shuddering breath and spoke. “When I was a kid… After Pop died. They tried to find me a home. I was shy at first, kinda scared. But then I kept seeing other kids leave with parents and I… I tried. I did everything right. But I never got picked. No one ever wanted to take me home. 

“After awhile, I stopped trying. I would leave and wander the city so that I didn’t have to be there when people came by. I didn’t want to keep hurting. It’s like they knew something was wrong with me, that I wasn’t enough. This feels like that.”

“No, Keith. You _are_ enough,” Shiro said, adamant as he took Keith’s face in his calloused hands. He shifted so that he could meet Keith’s eyes. His hands were warm against his cheeks, the pressure strong and steady. “You have always _been_ enough. You’ll always _be_ enough. For me, for anyone. Just as you are.” 

Keith took a shuddering breath and blinked back the tears that welled in his eyes. “I’m sorry. For all of this. For…” _For failing, for giving up._

Shiro shook his head, his thumbs swiping over Keith’s cheekbones. “No,” he said, his voice firm but kind. Gentler, he continued, “Keith, I married you for _you_ . For _us_. Just as we were. Together. Until the end of the universe, remember?” Keith swallowed and nodded. Shiro bit his lip before pressing onward. “All of this… We did this because we wanted a family, but… But we have one. Us and your mom and the Paladins and the Blades—”

“And Kosmo.”

“And Kosmo,” Shiro agreed with a watery laugh. Keith gave him a weak smile in return. “We have our family. And there’s so much love there. And that’s enough. Okay?” 

Keith bit his lip and nodded, not trusting his voice. “Okay,” he agreed after a time, even as a fresh set of tears slid down his face. 

Shiro caressed his cheeks with his thumbs again and brought them together in a tender kiss that melted into a tight embrace. “I love you,” he murmured against Keith’s temple as they clung to each other, “so much.”

Keith closed his eyes and clutched desperately at Shiro’s broad shoulders, fearful that if he didn’t, the universe would pull this one constant from him. “I love you too,” he said. 

Shiro’s hand then came up to comb through Keith’s hair, loosening the braid that hung past his shoulders. “Let me take care of you,” Shiro whispered and Keith nodded, letting Shiro lead him back to their bedroom.


	2. Retrograde

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Life goes on. The mission continues. Shiro is informed about a long overdue upgrade by Garrison leadership. It means an extended respite from Command and a chance to truly focus on his personal affairs.

Shiro stood at attention before the video feed, waiting patiently for the connection to be made across the galaxy back to Earth. Newly-promoted Vice Admiral Sam Holt was very busy, aiding Alliance efforts across the universe. But one thing he always made time for was personally issuing orders for his subordinate officers. Shiro smirked. The man had been a pillar within the Garrison even back in Shiro’s cadet days. How pleasantly surprising that they would still be within one another’s orbits so many years later. 

There was a soft ping from the holo screen before him and Shiro schooled his features as his comms team spoke, “Connection confirmed with Vice Admiral Holt. Standby.” 

Seconds later, Sam appeared before him. His sharp eyes met Shiro’s across the space that separated them. “Sir,” Shiro greeted him with a salute, which Sam returned. 

“At ease,” Sam said and appeared to take a seat, the video feed following him even as the twin Garrison and Alliance insignias behind him drifted upward. 

“You wanted to speak to me, Sir?” Shiro asked.

“I did. I prefer to do these in person, but there’s really no sense in waiting until you’re back on this side of the galaxy.” Sam leaned forward and pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose. “The ATLAS is overdue for a retrofit. After this deployment is done, she’s in for extended maintenance.”

There was a tell-tale scratching at the back of Shiro’s mind and the corner of Shiro’s mouth twitched. “She doesn’t like the sound of that.”

Sam grimaced. “The fact that the ship has an opinion on the matter continues to be a source of never-ending distress on my part, you realize.” Shiro chuckled and Sam cracked a smile before continuing. “ATLAS was our first of the line. But she’s been in the field for seven years now, with only brief dockings for general maintenance and upkeep. She therefore hasn’t kept pace with the scientific advancements that the Alliance has made. 

“She’s still one of our best and is the only one that…does whatever it is that she does,” Sam said with a general wave of his hand that Shiro understood to indicate the ship’s transformative qualities. “She’s an excellent ship, with an excellent captain.”

“And an excellent crew,” Shiro interjected.

“Absolutely. There’s no question to any of that. But her tech is outdated…something I’m sure even she recognizes.”

Shiro mulled this and had to agree. The infinite sentience in his head did the same. ATLAS had been…frustrated on more than one occasion in recent memory. Not enough to cause alarm or failure, but frustrated nonetheless. 

But then Sam was speaking again. “If we pull her in after this deployment, we can give her a full suite of upgrades and improvements. Hell, she can pick them herself if she wants for all I care. I plan to put her in orbit and let her run her own damn field trials after we’re done making sure it works on our side.”

ATLAS liked the sound of that and backed off, her attention turning to other parts of the ship. Shiro meanwhile asked, “How long do you anticipate this retrofit lasting?”

“A year. At least.”

Now it was Shiro’s turn to grimace, a break of his carefully constructed poker face that he only ever dared let the trusted few see. “A year is a long time to be on desk duty, Sir.”

Sam smiled. “Which is why this conversation is as much about the ATLAS as it is about you. With the promotion, I’m needed here on Earth. This means we have a vacant billet for a senior Alliance officer to serve as the Council’s military advisor.” Sam leaned forward and clasped his hands before him. “The position is advisory only, no decision authority. You’ve proven time and again you can lead from the front lines, and allow your teams to grow and become leaders in their own rights. I need to know that you can serve as a leader from the back as well. So what do you think? Ready to play diplomat?”

Shiro swallowed, his mouth having gone dry as Sam spoke. Although the ATLAS had done its share of friendly port calls and hosted diplomatic events shipboard, Shiro always saw himself as the manifestation of the ship and its crew. Their collective interests unified and speaking with one voice, rather than the representation of...well, the military arm of the Alliance itself. 

He cleared his throat. “I’m honored, Sir. I won’t let you down.”

“I’m glad to hear it,” Sam said and seemed to sigh with relief, as if some hidden weight had been lifted. Perhaps Shiro hadn’t been the only one being considered. “I trust your judgment Shiro. Always have, always will. You’ve never given me a reason to doubt it. The Council will be in good hands with you at their sides. Which brings me to relocation.”

“Sir?”

“The Council meets remotely, only on rare occasions in person: the meetings rotate among the permanent members’ systems. Means you don’t have to be based here on Earth. I’m willing to authorize a temporary relocation to Daibazaal…should that be something of interest.”

Shaking off his initial surprise, Shiro smiled and laughed.

* * *

That evening, Shiro retired to his personal quarters aboard the ATLAS. Leaning back against the door behind him, he pulled off his boots and unfastened the top buttons of his uniform as he shuffled over to the small sofa and collapsed back against the cushions. He closed his eyes and dropped his head back, a deep sigh filling and then deflating his lungs as he exhaled. He felt the poise and masks and roles he had played throughout the day slip away as he allowed himself a moment of stillness. 

_A retrofit for the ATLAS,_ he thought. It was hard to imagine that they hadn’t already pulled her from service. He supposed that spoke volumes of them all but it also meant that he’d be without an active mission for a time. _Which could be a good thing,_ part of his mind whispered in the dark, _to reset, reconnect, repair._ But how did one go about fixing things if one didn’t know how they were broken to begin with? 

Shiro blinked his eyes open and stared up at the ceiling for a moment. There was an ache somewhere in his chest that had long since become a familiar pain. One he carried with him ever since… Sitting upright once more, he withdrew his datapad and keyed in a familiar code. He hesitated a moment and opted not to engage the video as the device reached out across the impossible distance. 

After several trilling rings, a familiar voice answered, “You’ve reached Keith. Leave a message.” The voice cut out just as quickly, followed by a final ping.

“Hey, it’s me,” Shiro began. His voice faltered on his tongue. He swallowed past the sudden tightness in his throat and tried again. “You’re probably in the field with the Blades. I wanted to let you know I got my orders. Finally. ATLAS is going in for a much-needed upgrade which leaves me without a ship for the coming year at least. Sam’s opted to put me in as his replacement as the Alliance Council’s military advisor.” He paused then, and studied his sudden hesitance, trying to make sense of it. In the end, Shiro pressed on. “He authorized my relocation to Daibazaal. I… I’m excited about it. About the position, yeah, but… to see you again. More often. It’ll be nice. I think.”

He startled himself into silence as a stray tear slid down his cheek. He swiped at it in frustration and was silent for a long time, watching the icon on his screen pulse as it waited for him to complete his message. “I miss you,” Shiro said at last. “I love you.” His words felt weak and tired on his tongue. They were everything and yet not enough. 

Shiro sighed, his heart heavy, and disconnected the line.


	3. The Limits of Intel Gathering

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A Blade of Marmora clandestine operation has identified a potential threat to the Alliance in a distant quadrant. Rather than wait for an attack to come to fruition, leadership takes proactive measures. When the dust settles, they discover an anomaly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A whole lot of make believe system names in this one, courtesy the [Star System Name Generator](https://www.scifiideas.com/star-system-name-generator/)

The ATLAS had been cruising through central Alliance-controlled space and had thus been chosen as the ideal location for an emergency meeting of the Alliance Inner Council. Per protocol, Shiro’s XO had met them and other arriving delegates at the aging flagship’s hangar bay while Shiro and Vice Admiral Holt met them in the conference room itself. They greeted each of the delegates in turn in the appropriate fashion of their respective cultures. 

Only with Keith did Shiro’s professionalism slip in the slightest: his gaze softened even as his gray eyes flicked up to the fresh scar above Keith’s left eyebrow. Keith gave him a near-imperceptible shrug before they parted and Keith followed his mother to the chairs designated for the Galra delegation.

Once seated, Krolia nudged him with her elbow. He turned to find his mother fighting one of her secret smiles as she tipped her chin toward the table. Keith followed her gaze and landed on the placard in front of him.

_ Keith Kogane  
_ _ Leader, Voltron _

He turned back to the head of the room and locked eyes with Shiro, who had taken his seat beside Holt. Keith gave him a smile and Shiro nodded in acknowledgement.

But then the Council’s Chairman brought the meeting to order and recognized the Galra delegation. Krolia stood and swept her hand over the screens embedded in the conference table. Holograms sprang to life in thin air, featuring key locations and smuggled video feeds as she spoke. “As we feared, operations in the Talmalis System are more mature than they originally appeared. An old guard Galra warlord, Mahtok, has finished repairs to his commandeered cruiser and has been stockpiling munitions. He has also been amassing a fighting force and appears to have been doing so for some time. Most concerning, however, is that recent intelligence has revealed that he’s been joined by several of Haggar’s surviving Druids.” 

Krolia paused, and the video feed stilled. Although grainy and hastily taken, the markings were undeniable. The Druids—or at least, some of them—were alive. There were concerned murmurs among the Council members present.

“We had originally thought that the Druids were long gone,” Krolia admitted. “If not by Haggar’s hand years ago, then certainly starved by the lack of access to refined quintessence. Clearly we were mistaken.”

“What does the Galra delegation recommend?” the Chairman asked. 

“In principle, the Galra  _ Republic  _ recommends patience and caution,” Krolia answered, swiftly adding, “the Blade of Marmora recommends action.”

“I agree,” Holt interjected, his eyes on the video feed before them as it started to replay. “Mahtok was little more than a nuisance when we last met. A pirate to be dealt with accordingly. The growth of his ranks is concerning of course; but it’s the addition of the Druids which begs action.” Turning his gaze to the Council members each in turn and said, “We should not wait for Mahtok and his followers to become a real threat. We should pre-empt it.”

“Many of our forces are preoccupied with aid and disaster relief efforts throughout the Alliance,” once representative said, turning her many eyes to Keith. “Could Voltron assist?”

“No,” Keith answered without hesitation. “Mahtok is a threat to the Alliance, not to the Universe. Not even to that sector, much less the galaxy. It’s vital for Voltron to remain separate from the Alliance itself.”

“Voltron and the Alliance are on the same side.”

“For now.” Keith stole a glance at Shiro and caught the ghost of a smirk before Shiro could school his features.  _ Right answer. _

“The Blade of Marmora can take on some of this burden,” Krolia offered, “but not alone.”

The Zealae representative placed a clawed hand over her chest. “Our Rangers will support you. We have a long history of training and working with the Blades. It’s the most logical partnership.”

“And what of the threat posed by Mahtok’s ship?”

“The ATLAS can provide orbital support,” Shiro offered.

“With all due respect, the ATLAS is old.”

“And still fully capable of dealing with a lone Galra cruiser.”

“...fair.”

At last, the Chairman spoke. “Let it be decided then. The Blade of Marmora and Zaelae Rangers will be joined by the IGF ATLAS to eliminate this threat.” There were no objections. “I will remind the Council that the Talmalis System is well outside of Alliance jurisdiction. The planets in that quadrant are at best disdainful of and at worst outright hostile to the Alliance. This strike will need to be executed with surgical precision. Do not dally once your mission is complete.”

* * *

After the Council meeting adjourned and its members dispersed once more, Keith followed Shiro back to his shipboard quarters. As always when traveling with Shiro aboard the ATLAS, they arrived sooner than Keith would have expected given the sheer size of the battleship. Clearly ATLAS’ self-improvements had been sustained. [1] Keith smirked at the thought, quickly sobering as they stepped inside Shiro’s private spaces, the door sliding shut behind them.

“So...are we not going to discuss the head wound?” Shiro asked at last. 

“No,” Keith answered curtly. He set his shoulders and faced his husband, but his stubborn defiance quickly faltered. Shiro’s face betrayed his exasperation and concern, but there was a hint of amusement too, carefully guarded in his gray eyes. “It’s superficial,” Keith added with a dismissive wave of his hand.

Shiro’s eyes dropped away and he nodded, taking a step closer. He stretched out a hand and entwined his finger’s with Keith’s. “Who was with you?” he asked.

“No one.” Keith’s answer brought the exasperation back in full force and Shiro’s expression darkened. Keith sought to head it off. “I have too many new Blades. I can’t send them on the dangerous missions. Not without support. And with the new mandate, we’re stretched thin as it is. This operation in Talmalis is just more of the same.” 

Shiro closed his eyes and took a deep breath, seeming to steady himself. When he met Keith’s eyes again, his expression was soft. “I know,” he assured. “I know. But I worry about you.”

Keith shook his head, the earlier tension between them dissipating as quickly as it had appeared. “I can take care of myself,” he said.

Shiro gave him a weak smile. “It’s not an indictment of your abilities, Keith. I know what you’re capable of. I’m  _ always  _ worried about you. I’m always  _ going  _ to be worried about you. Because I don’t get to be the one who’s got your back.”

“You do when it matters,” Keith countered, reaching a hand up to cup his husband’s cheek.

Shiro turned to press a chaste kiss against his palm before leaning into the touch once more. They stood in silence together for a time until at last Shiro murmured, “Sometimes you feel so far away.” 

The words seemed to echo inside some invisible chasm that had opened up between them. They rebounded against the deepest parts of Keith. They hurt...but only as the truth can hurt.

“It’s not just the distance,” Shiro continued, “or the field work or the deployments. You  _ feel  _ far away. Like we’re being pulled apart by opposing tides. I haven’t felt like that in a long time.” Shiro left the details unspoken, but Keith felt the muscles in his jaw twitch against his palm. 

Keith worried the inside of his cheek between his teeth. It had been months since he’d spent anything akin to personal time with Shiro. There was always a mission or some other duty that kept them apart. But how much of it had been by Keith’s design rather than unfortunate happenstance?

_ Too much of it _ , he realized. Swallowing down the stone forming in his throat, Keith closed the shred of remaining distance between them and kissed Shiro. Softly, tenderly. Apologetically. “I’m sorry,” he murmured, “for being distant. I...I needed some time and...time got away from me.” It was a poor explanation and an even weaker justification.

Shiro was silent for a time, letting Keith stew in his thoughts until at last he said, “When things hurt, we’re supposed to lean on  _ each other.  _ I can’t support you or give you what you need when you disappear.”

“I know—”

“Then why do it?”

“Are we really having this conversation now—?”

“Yes we are, and don’t deflect.” Shiro pulled away from Keith’s hand and instead reached up to cradle Keith’s face in his own hands. “I sent you so many messages...and you never once responded with anything other than proof of life. I don’t know what to make of that. Still don’t. But you’re here now, standing in front of me, and I love you  _ so much  _ but I’m hurt and angry and I need to know: are we going to be okay?”

There was an air of finality to the question. “Yes,” Keith answered, raising his hands to clutch at Shiro’s forearms.

“Good, because I’m moving to Daibazaal when this mission is over.” A crooked smile graced Shiro’s lips. It was the one he always wore when he was fighting to keep from falling apart. The sight of it made Keith’s eyes sting.

“I know. You told me.”

“You never answered.”

Keith bit his lip but then the words tumbled from him, a dam breaking. “I  _ want  _ you on Daibazaal. I want to wake up beside you. I want to be near you. I want to make up these lost months to you. Because I love you and I’m sorry and I don’t want to be alone anymore.”

Shiro sighed, his grin softening. “Me neither,” he murmured before he pulled Keith into a tender embrace.

* * *

Shiro stood on the observatory platform overlooking what remained of Mahtok and the Druids’ command facility. Scorch marks scarred the walls and panels underfoot. They were joined by clawlike slashes which could only have been left by luxite blades. 

The mission had been a success: the threat to the Alliance had been neutralized. Those in the warlord’s ranks who had not fallen in the fight had been captured; those not captured had fled with Mahtok himself to fight another day. The Druids, however, had been shown no quarter. Limp, shrouded figures had been arranged in a row. Five in total. Shiro grimaced as he came up beside Krolia. “We could’ve used them for information.”

“They’re more dangerous alive,” she countered. Her eyes watched the remaining Blades as they gathered what data they could from the facility’s computers. The clock was ticking.

The radio in Shiro’s collar chimed. A call from the ATLAS bridge. “Go ahead.”

“The Churelialia next door have hailed us,” Curtis said. “They want to know what the Hell is going on.”

“Stall,” Shiro answered.

No sooner had he disconnected his line, however, than Krolia’s communicator pinged. “Krolia, you’re going to want to see this,” Keith’s voice said, sounding distant. 

Shiro and Krolia exchanged concerned glances before she responded, “We’re on our way.” 

Krolia led the way down into the depths of the facility, passing Zealae Rangers and Galra Blades alike, many of whom were busy downloading information from the facility’s databases for future analysis. This would likely be the only chance they would have to secure such data from outside Alliance jurisdiction. It was therefore well worth the time even as they closed out necessary operational duties before departure.

Shiro trailed behind Krolia, rounding corners and stairwells. He felt a creeping itch clawing its way up the back of his spine and shuddered. Something was wrong and it felt all too familiar to memories he had fought long and hard to overcome.

When they reached their destination, Shiro stilled. Feet rooted to the ground beneath him, his heart hammered in his chest. Rows and rows of glowing medical pods under dim light. Rows and rows of bodies, sleeping and waiting for their release from their false wombs and dreamless sleep.

Throat impossibly tight, Shiro gasped for breath. The sound drew Krolia’s attention from up ahead of him and she stopped, turning to look back. The momentary confusion in her eyes was quickly overcome by a dark realization. She crossed back to Shiro and touched his elbow.  _ “Rokavii,”  _ she murmured, using her Galra name for him.

It grounded Shiro, something stable and safe on which to rebuild his composure. He closed his eyes and breathed. They weren’t  _ there.  _ Time and space had taken them far away from the cloning facility. Whatever monstrous things lay dormant in those pods, he was not facing them alone. 

When he opened his eyes, Keith stood before him, alongside his mother. Beautiful Keith. Beautiful and dedicated and dangerous Keith. Shiro’s gaze flicked unbidden to the scar on his cheek and something inside him trembled. 

Keith saw it and took Shiro’s hand in his own. “They’re not you,” he said. 

The simple words were delivered with such stalwart conviction that Shiro believed him without question. Shiro nodded and swallowed, regaining more of his mental footing.

“Are you alright?” Krolia asked, her clawed hand still at his elbow.

Shiro breathed, “Yeah.” Then, a little stronger, “Yes. I’m alright.” With a nod Krolia withdrew, giving him space. Keith meanwhile squeezed his hand—a gesture Shiro returned in-kind—before stepping back. Shiro took a deep breath, expelled it slowly, and turned his head to face the nearest pod off to his left.

What he saw there brought new waves of horror.

“Children,” Shiro uttered—stunned—as he stepped closer to the pod. Reaching out, he pressed his hand flat against the glass and watched the Galra baby inside kick as if dreaming. A whiplike tail, tipped with a swatch of fur, flicked about in the medical pod’s subtle current. “He was growing  _ children _ .”

“All to feed his war machine if the facility records are anything to go by.”

The three of them turned to find one of the Galra operatives standing beside the nearest data consoles. She straightened when their eyes landed upon her and she nodded in acknowledgement, saluting with her fist to her chest. 

Keith was the first to address her. “Tell them what you told me, Tahk.”

“Based on the records available, it appears that the Druids were experimenting with Galra genetics.  _ Their  _ purpose is unclear, but Mahtok’s objective was to build an army composed entirely of the best Galra genetic lines. Each of these kits are custom built...so to speak. Their lineage is an amalgamation of  _ dozens  _ of donors at least.”

“What do we do with them all?”

“We’ll take them back to Daibazaal,” Krolia answered. “Mixed genealogy though they may be, the Matrons should be able to cross reference our databases for any living relatives.”

“And if there are none?” Shiro asked, his eyes still trained on the sleeping form in the tube. 

There was a heavy pause. “Then the Matrons will find homes.”

“There’s a problem, Ma’am,” Tahk said. “A  _ singular  _ problem. We can take all of them to Daibazaal under lineage authorities...except for one. One is  _ not  _ Galra, or at least not entirely. Not even  _ mostly _ : roughly 50 percent is from a single genetic donor source.”

“‘A single donor,’” Krolia echoed and then hissed her displeasure. “A parent, you mean. Which one of them?”

Tahk glanced down at the screen before her and raised an arm. “That one.” Looking up, she and Krolia locked Shiro in their sights. 

Startled, Shiro’s eyes darted between them and the child in the tube before turning back. “Are you sure? It  _ looks  _ Galra...”

“Quite sure,” Tahk answered. “Mixed lineage Galra with 50 percent from a single donor. However, who the donor was has been scrubbed from the system. They didn’t want anyone to know who the primary parent was.” Tahk turned her attention wholly to Krolia. “Given the proper resources, I could do the necessary genealogy mapping. But we cannot take him to Daibazaal. We do not have the jurisdiction in this case.”

“The ATLAS is flying under an Alliance flag,” Shiro reminded them. “We can take him. The ship should have access to all the necessary systems you need. Come with us and we can handle this en route.”

The Blades before him considered the suggestion, but before any could answer the radio in Shiro’s collar crackled to life again. “ATLAS Bridge to ATLAS Actual.” 

“This is Actual,” Shiro responded. “Go ahead.”

“Sir, the Churelialia have launched ships and are heading our way. ETA 10 doboshes.” 

“Roger that.” Shiro turned to Krolia and Keith. “Time’s up.”

Krolia nodded, agreeing to the proposal. Keith turned to the assembled Blades, simultaneously opening his communicator. “The Galra kits go with the Blades back to Daibazaal space for domestic processing. Krolia and I will accompany Tahk and the...anomaly aboard the ATLAS. Company is coming. We’re ghosts in five.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [1] As a reminder to readers, the ATLAS in this series is sentient and likes to make her own operational improvements when she can. One of those is a “bubble” of time and space that surrounds Shiro and whoever he’s with, and helps him get between points faster than he would if he was just walking.


	4. Inexplicable Discoveries

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> On the long road back to the safety of Alliance space, Krolia, Keith, and Shiro get to know their smallest passenger a bit better. Meanwhile, Tahk races against time to determine the child’s genetic lineage and—if possible—identify his parent.

The IGF ATLAS—despite its deteriorating technological prowess—was still a perfectly capable and fully functional battleship. It was well-equipped, well-staffed, and well-traveled. It carried the immense weight of battles fought on universal scales, something the Alliance’s newer assets had yet to experience and hopefully never would.

Galaxy Garrison and Alliance liaison staff alike flitted up and down its corridors, shifts changed, bunks were swapped. They all flowed like the ship’s lifeblood, feeding a primal drumbeat following the latest engagement. 

All of this were things ATLAS understood, Krolia knew as she made her way towards the shipboard medical wing. And while the ship had seen its fair share of humanitarian aid and refugee rescues, it seemed never quite sure how to handle... _small_ things with the same grace it offered to its battle-weary captain and his compatriots. Instead, the ship struck Krolia as content to follow others’ lead and support where it could: _following_ directions, rather than giving them in these cases. 

Krolia smirked. “Are you listening?” she asked as she reached the sliding doors to the medical wing and paused. She heard nothing, but that was usually the case. She pressed her hand to the console off to the side and stepped through the doors when they parted.

She strode unhurried through the medical wing, passing the regular ATLAS medical officers and a few stray patients as she moved to the back of the facility where Tahk had been quartered with their smallest passenger. “Any news?” Krolia asked as she reached the Blade.

Tahk stood and saluted—Krolia quickly waved off the formality—before answering, “Nothing yet, Ma’am. The tissue samples I’ve taken match what the records show, but trawling through the necessary databases takes time. Perhaps it is the wormhole which is causing interference...” 

There was an undercurrent to the words indicating that Tahk suspected the ship’s age may have something to do with the lagging search but had wisely not said as much. Krolia smirked. Though Tahk may have withheld the thought for fear of eavesdroppers, Krolia knew ATLAS had enough of a vindictive streak to slow the search further if it so desired despite the ramifications of doing so. 

“Well,” Krolia said, “we have approximately one movement before we turn the kit over to Alliance authorities. That should be sufficient time to narrow the search, assuming the parent is in a system.”

“A big assumption, Ma’am. It’s possible that Mahtok and his Druids used a donor from outside of Alliance jurisdiction.”

Krolia hummed as she crossed the space and stood before the medical tube which held the sleeping child. Curled in on itself, it bobbed in an invisible current as it slept. “A possibility, but how probable do you think it is?”

“Time will tell, I suppose,” Tahk answered. “If we exhaust the Alliance databases without a match, then certainly the chance increases.”

“Certainly,” Krolia echoed, her eyes still on the child. Reaching out, she ghosted the tips of her claws over the pod’s surface. “Children this small need to be held,” she murmured, feeling her heart tug itself towards the little thing. “They struggle without a caretaker’s touch. They need to feel safe, cared for.” She turned back to Tahk and found her watching with a curious look. “Your mission takes precedent,” Krolia continued, “and I’m cognizant that this is in fact an operational battleship, but...would you mind if I…” 

Tahk gave her a small smile. “Ma’am, of everyone on this ship, you are perhaps the _most_ qualified to care for the kit. Should I arrange for you to be accommodated here…?”

Krolia shook her head. “No need. We can care for him in my quarters, so as not to disturb you or the other staff. ATLAS will handle the necessaries.”

“ATLAS, Ma’am?”

Krolia smirked. “When I’ve spoken to him on the subject, the captain has been adamant that ATLAS is always listening, Tahk. Always. Now help me prepare the kit for his relocation.”

* * *

Shiro knew their young charge had been relocated from medical in the same way he knew the mess hall had run out of the blue alien biscuits everyone seemed to enjoy—ATLAS told him. He pushed the knowledge aside to be addressed later: he had a ship to run.

But the information lingered in the corner of his mind. Once his shift drew to a close and he passed the baton to his staff, Shiro moved through the ship and studied the news once more. Tahk had been running database searches in medical for some time without a clear hit to the child’s parentage. Meanwhile, Krolia had taken the baby from the medical wing to her own quarters. An interesting development and Shiro wondered at it.

He walked past his own spaces and changed course toward the rooms set aside for the new additions to their manifest. Reaching the door to Krolia’s room, Shiro knocked twice to announce his presence. From inside, Krolia acknowledged, “Come in.”

Shiro stepped through the entryway as the door slid aside. His mother-in-law spared him a warm glance over her shoulder before turning her attention back to the small bundle cradled in her arms. She moved in a slow circle around herself, gently rocking her arms as she did so. As Shiro approached, he noticed that one of her clawed fingers was tightly grasped by a small fist. From the bottom of the swadling, a whiplike tail flicked back and forth lazily. 

A soft rumbling met his ears as he came up beside Krolia and realized with a start that the baby in her arms was...purring? _Galra purr?_ Before the thought could fully form in his head, Shiro came face to face with the child swaddled loosely in a towel. The baby boasted purple skin much like Krolia’s but was covered head to presumably toe in soft, downy purple fur. His large batlike ears flicked about, picking up sounds Shiro could never even hope to hear. His wide, curious eyes—yellow sclera and midnight blue irises, like so many other Galra—stared up at Krolia, entranced, while he sucked on his own small fist. 

But then the child locked eyes with Shiro, popped his small fist from his mouth, and _chirped_.

Krolia chuckled and turned to explain, “He likes your look.”

“Is that what that meant?” Shiro asked, fighting his own laughter. “I didn’t realize Galra made such noises.”

“ _Adult_ Galra do not,” Krolia told him. “Kits, however, are another matter. They are nonverbal early in life, and so rely on other means to get attention.”

A thought crossed Shiro’s mind. “Did Keith—?”

Krolia laughed again. “No, to my disappointment. Though he made plenty of his own kinds of noises, which his father assured me were typical of human children.” She turned then to face him and asked, “Would you like to hold him?” 

Shiro’s wide eyes darted from Krolia to the baby in her arms. Swallowing thickly, he nodded. Krolia turned and shifted the bundle—which suddenly made a high-pitched, gurgling rattle that sounded almost like laughter—from her arms into Shiro’s. She helped position him so the child was supported against his chest, its small head tucked in close towards Shiro’s neck. There was one more of those wet, rattling giggles but then the child settled and began purring again. To Shiro’s human ears, it sounded louder than before. He blamed it on proximity, able to feel the vibrations from the little one spreading out through his own chest.

Krolia withdrew her guiding hands, her face soft as she smiled at them. “He likes you very much,” she observed.

Shiro brought a hand to the little one’s back and rubbed gentle circles in time with the rise and fall of his little ribs. For a moment, everything seemed right in the universe, like some missing puzzle piece had slotted into place. He dared not dwell on it, lest his heart break right then and there.

* * *

Keith had been trying to catch Shiro or Krolia alone between his own duties and meetings for the last couple quintants and had been wholly unsuccessful each time. 

Thinking his mother would be easier to speak to in private, Keith had instead repeatedly walked into Krolia’s quarters to find her showing Shiro how to hold the baby—the ‘kit’ as his Galra brethren referred to him as—feed him, reassure him when he was distressed. Shiro cradled the small creature so carefully and gently in his big arms and Keith could feel the lump in his throat grow larger and the ache in his chest burn more fiercely each time he stumbled onto the sight. 

But Shiro was currently on-duty, which meant his mother was likely alone in her quarters with the kit. Perhaps he could speak with her and settle his churning mind. 

When he entered Krolia’s small room, however, the sight that met him caught him entirely by surprise and he stood stock still at the entryway while the doors hissed shut behind him.

Krolia stood in the center of the room, struggling to maintain some semblance of a grip on the Galra baby as he fought her embrace. Inconsolable, he clicked and hissed and growled. His little teeth gnawed on her arms, leaving small but otherwise inconsequential welts in their wake. Keith had never seen the kit like this. Krolia had been an exceptional caregiver, so what…

“He wants Shiro,” Krolia explained, catching sight of him and his confusion. She sounded tired and mildly disappointed, as if she knew that she could not meet the baby’s needs in that moment and was helpless to do anything to relieve his distress.

“Shiro is on the bridge,” Keith said, taking a step forward. “He won’t be off-duty for at least another hour.”

“I realize.” Again, that tired resignation. The Galra baby managed to wriggle free just enough to get her hand close to his mouth. He chomped down with a muted growl, tail whipping back and forth. Up close, Keith could see that his teeth were far too small to do any damage, but Krolia hissed softly all the same. “Don’t bite,” she admonished gently and extracted her hand to reposition the baby.

Keith was walking forward before he even realized what he was doing and stretched out a hand, stroking the baby’s head gently. “I know,” he murmured as the kit whined. “I know. I miss him too.”

The kit calmed at the touch, Keith’s fingers running over his fluffy, batlike ears. With a sniffle and a sad chirp, the baby reached out to Keith with a small arm. Keith stepped closer and silently helped his mother transfer him into his arms. She helped him adjust his hold to keep the kit snuggled tightly against his chest while Keith murmured soft reassurances. 

Slowly...slowly...the kit calmed, pressing his cheek against Keith’s shoulder while he pulled his small fist into his mouth. And then, a low rumble in time with his breathing. 

Keith started and looked up at Krolia. He had heard the kit purr before, plenty of times in Shiro’s arms. But...but to _feel_ that rumble against his own chest… “I take it, that's a good sign?” he asked, already knowing the answer. 

Krolia gave him a knowing smile. “Very good. Means he feels safe, comforted. Well done.”

Keith expelled a shaky, breathless laugh and rubbed a hand over the child's back in slow circles. The baby ducked in closer to his neck, a position Keith had seen him take with Shiro so many times before. With a deep sigh, Keith rocked the kit in his arms, shifting his weight from foot to foot as he hummed some stray tune he vaguely remembered...and tried not to fall in love.

* * *

Keith had to say something. Had to. Or so he told himself. As their final destination grew ever closer, Shiro had been spending ever more time in Krolia’s quarters with their pint-sized passenger. 

So tonight he followed Shiro down the ATLAS passageways, back to his quarters after bidding Krolia and their ward goodnight. That ache had latched itself onto Keith’s ribs and refused to be shaken loose this time. It disguised itself as frustration and made his teeth clench...but he knew that wasn’t what it was. It was a harbinger, a mourning for loss yet to come. But come it would and some part of Keith wanted nothing more than to wall himself away. Barricade his heart against the rising tide of emotion, as if that would keep it at bay when the time came. 

But another part of Keith wanted to protect Shiro from that pain too. And the only way he thought he could was by saying what he hoped they both knew. 

When they stepped through the threshold and into the privacy of the captain’s quarters, Keith spoke the harbinger into existence. “You shouldn’t get too close.” Whether the words were aimed at himself or Shiro, he didn’t know. He watched Shiro’s shoulders slump all the same and knew they had struck true. Unable to stop himself, Keith said, “It’ll hurt more when they take him away.”

Shiro sighed and turned to face him, running a restless hand through his short hair. “I know,” he said, sounding tired and resigned. “I know.”

“Then why do this? Why treat it any differently than any other stowaway or official passenger?” Shiro opened his mouth and Keith saw where he was going before he uttered a word. “And don’t say, ‘Because he’s a baby.’”

His husband huffed a dry, mirthless laugh and shook his head. He turned away and moved to the small sitting area and collapsed onto the couch. There was an air of defeat that hung around him that was so uncommon it gave Keith pause. His heart went out to his partner at the sight. Perhaps he shouldn’t have… No, he had to say something. To protect him, to protect them both...even if it hurt. After a moment, Keith followed and sat down on the couch beside Shiro and waited. Patient and attentive. 

Eventually, Shiro spoke. His voice was barely above a whisper, as if he didn’t trust the strength of the words, as if they’d shatter if delivered with too much conviction. “I know it’ll hurt. But...even if it’s not forever, it could be for now. As a respite. To feel it, to see it. To think for at least a little while that it could have been. What we could have had. 

“And even if... _when_ we have to say goodbye,” Shiro continued, correcting his lapse, “I’ll have known it. To a degree. For a time. And that would be enough.” 

He looked up and Keith found those gray eyes pained and glistening with unshed tears. Shiro smiled at him. Keith hated that smile, _that_ smile. The one that Shiro wore when he was trying so very hard to hold himself together. For Keith’s benefit, for his own. But there was a twitch in his cheek that signalled the facade’s imminent failing and Keith realized his mistake.

Keith had mourned their lost chances and had fled...but so had Shiro. “I’m sorry,” Keith said, and closed the distance between them, taking Shiro’s face in his hands as he watched that damned smile falter. “I wasn’t there for you when you needed me, when I needed you. Before. And I’m sorry.” 

Shiro swallowed thickly and sniffed as the first hot tear streaked down his face. “Tell you what,” he said, voice raw, “you can make it up to me when we say goodbye to him.”

Keith pulled Shiro to him, his husband falling into his embrace. They held each other for a long time before sleep came to them both. 

* * *

Tahk glared at the screen before her. Another failed search. Another well of a database that had run dry. Every varga that went by was another varga closer to their destination and she had been at this for quintants already. 

She had started first with searching systems which she knew the Druids had traditionally preferred for their test subjects. When that failed, she searched the systems which the Empire had approved for ‘cross-breeding’ as it had been called, knowing that Mahtok was of the old guard. But even that had failed to provide a positive match.

This left _hundreds_ of Alliance databases left to search and of course _none_ of them were integrated or networked. She simply did not have the time to search them all. And ATLAS processing speed—while sufficient for Alliance operations with Shiro at the helm—was ill-suited for data mining.

Which meant Tahk needed to narrow the search parameters, and quickly. But how? 

Leaning back in her chair, she crossed her arms over her chest and stared up at the ceiling of the medical wing. Narrow the search… Unbidden, thoughts of the kit popped into her head.

Although Krolia had taken up the role of primary caregiver, Tahk had continued to visit at regular intervals. She felt it was her duty to ensure Krolia had what she needed, and the status reports let her know the child was starting to thrive. 

But then her thoughts turned to the ATLAS captain. More than once, she had entered Krolia’s quarters to find Shiro with the child in his arms. Cradled against the human’s broad chest, the kit usually had its face buried in the crook of Shiro’s neck, purring loudly while his tail wrapped tightly around Shiro’s forearm or wrist.

Tahk was happy to see the kit felt secure with his caregivers, but such behavior was usually reserved for— 

Tahk bolted to her feet, her chair falling to the floor behind her with a clatter. Her mind raced while her heart hammered in her chest. This whole time… this whole time had the answer been right in front of her? Impossible! But…

She hurried about the lab, gathering sampling supplies before darting out of the medical wing and down the hall.

When she reached Krolia’s quarters, Tahk was nearly breathless when Keith answered the door. He spared her a curious glance before noting, “Tahk, you’re early.” He stepped aside and ushered her in all the same. 

Krolia sat at a small table at the far end of the room, drinking from a steaming mug. A trio of empty plates indicated a recently finished family meal. Shiro meanwhile sat in the chair opposite her, feeding the kit from a bottle that Tahk could only assume the ATLAS had materialized from the cosmic ether. 

“I’m glad to have caught you before your shift,” Tahk said to Shiro. “I was hoping I could get a DNA sample.”

Shiro’s eyes flicked over her shoulder before returning to meet her gaze. “Why?” There was a heavy note of suspicion in the word.

“I have a theory,” Tahk began, “but I need a human DNA sample to confirm it.”

“You think he’s part human?” Keith asked...from behind her.

It was only then that Tahk realized they had boxed her in, a defensive move. She didn’t understand why or what threat they perceived now that hadn’t been present during her previous check-ins. 

Then it dawned on her. The sample. She forced herself not to let her eyes fall to the captain’s prosthesis, knowing instinctively that this would be the wrong move. 

Instead, she shifted to look at Keith. “It’s only a theory, one I want to be sure of before it’s seriously considered. But despite the… plethora of presumably human crewmembers aboard—” she turned back to face Shiro, “— _you_ are the most accessible, Sir. Which I realize is ironic, given your rank.”

Shiro visibly swallowed and seemed to steel his nerves. “What do you need?”

“Just a cheek swab, Sir,” Tahk said, holding the sample kit aloft.

There was a beat of tense silence and then a palpable relief filled the room. “Oh,” Shiro uttered as tension bled from him. He huffed a dry laugh and Tahk watched as a faint flush rose in his cheeks, as if embarrassed. “Uh, sure,” he said, sounding contrite.

Permission granted, Tahk stepped forward. Her work was quick and as she stepped away once more—capping the sample—she glanced down at the kit. His gold and blue eyes watched her, curious. The tuft of fur at the end of his tail flicked against Shiro’s wrist. 

Tahk smiled down at him and thought, _I hope I’m right, little one. I hope I’m right..._


	5. Impossible Possibilities

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tahk’s search is at an end and the truth she uncovers comes against all odds. It up-ends all of Shiro and Keith’s expectations for their future.

Tahk stared at the computer screen, barely daring to breathe. She then got up and walked a circuit through the medical wing, even stopping to snag a piece of fruit from the nurse’s station, before returning to her desk. 

The screen hadn’t changed. It wasn’t her mind playing tricks on her. She had rerun the test three times. Her search was finally at an end.

A hit. And not just a hit. A match. 

A parent. 

Standing, she gathered her materials and downloaded the results to a datapad the medical officer had loaned her during her stay aboard the ATLAS, and walked out of the medical wing towards Krolia’s quarters.

* * *

When Tahk arrived, datapad in hand, Shiro knew this was the end. He forced himself to swallow past the vise that tightened around his throat and turned his eyes to the Galra baby that dozed in his arms. His clawed hands kneaded the air above him lazily as his tail curled up around Shiro’s forearm, a common occurrence that Shiro had found as much comfort in as he suspected the little one did. But all that was ending, and he wouldn’t face it with tears. 

Straightening, he sat upright and turned his eyes on Tahk who stood at attention before himself and her Blade of Marmora leadership. “I have the results of the genetic search, Ma’am, Sirs,” Tahk said. She then added, to Shiro, “Thank you again, Sir, for your DNA sample.”

He nodded. “So it was human DNA.”

“Yes, Sir.”

“I take it there was a match,” Krolia said. 

“Whose?” Keith asked, and Shiro detected the unmistakable defensiveness in his voice. When Tahk hesitated, Keith all but growled at her. “Best not to bury the lead, Tahk.”

Tahk nodded and turned her attention on Shiro. “Yours, Sir.”

Silence struck the room like a thunderbolt. Frozen where he sat, Shiro was certain he had misheard, that his brain had tricked him. “What?” he asked, too stunned to articulate his confusion and uncertainty any further.

Tahk interpreted his reaction as doubt. “I have run and re-run the test multiple times, each time providing the same result. Not only is the kit half-human, he is also your offspring. Verifiably, genetically so.” She then shifted her weight between her feet, seemingly uncomfortable. “I do not know how this came to be, though I suspect… prior… ah, _experimentation_ , may have come into play.” The words were clearly difficult to utter, and far too impersonal to encapsulate the magnitude of what they were discussing. 

Turning back to the matter at hand, Tahk continued, “He was the only one of the cases from the facility which was only half Galra. His genetic lineage on that side is an amalgamation of donors, as was the case with the rest. But the other half, his _human_ half, is yours and yours alone.” She offered him a tentative smile, “I believe congratulations are in order.”

Shiro laughed, or tried to at least. The sound escaped him like a choked gasp, trembling on his lips. He watched as Krolia turned her eyes from him, to Keith, and then finally to Tahk. She gathered her subordinate and the two of them made their exit with mention of completing ‘necessary paperwork.’ But then they were gone, leaving Keith and he alone. Alone with the baby. 

Shiro turned his attention back to the child in his arms. Now sound asleep, his breaths marked by the familiar rumble of his purring. The vise around Shiro’s throat tightened further, threatening to suffocate him with his own tumultuous emotions. “I have a son,” he murmured to himself. But then he looked up with tears in his eyes and found Keith standing too far away. “We have a son,” he corrected himself.

Almost as if he was entranced, Keith took several hesitant steps forward and as he approached, Shiro watched the shift. The whites of Keith’s eyes went gold, the flush on his cheeks darkened as if bruising, and when he parted his lips to speak, there was a glint of fangs. “Can I hold him?” Keith asked, reverent and uncertain as his fingertips grazed the child’s loose swaddling. 

Shiro smiled through his tears and stood, carefully passed the sleeping bundle into his husband’s waiting arms. Keith’s eyes never left the kit’s face, his gaze locked on and studying him as if to commit everything of this moment to visual memory. A son. Their son. Impossible and yet true. A miraculous ending to a painful series of lonely years.

Shiro watched Keith watch their son and saw the roiling emotions behind Keith's Galra eyes, felt too deeply to put into words. He could feel them too, like he was breaking apart and being stitched back together by love as endless and vast as the universe itself. Humbling and daunting and terrifying. Shiro wrapped his arms around Keith, sheltering the child cradled between them.

And in that peaceful moment, Shiro swore to whoever or whatever was listening out in the void that he would protect them, cherish them, love them with every ounce of himself. Their little family, their small universe: the three of them.

* * *

The return to Earth space was a whirlwind of activity that passed in a dreamlike blur. ATLAS was authorized for its retrofit. Shiro was formally billeted as the military advisor to the Alliance’s Inner Council’s and his change of duty station to Daibazaal was authorized. 

As was his son’s. Thanks to Krolia and Tahk, the Alliance already had records of the child on file and Earth’s authorities could do nothing to oppose the child’s relocation had they wanted to, what with all of his caregivers either currently or soon to be residing on Daibazaal. The family services division chief did side-eye Shiro’s embarrassed admission that the child had no official name as of yet, but authorized the accompanied relocation all the same.

News of Keith and Shiro’s parental status traveled fast. Shiro was fairly certain that the paladins knew about their latest addition faster than most of the Garrison personnel on-planet, despite the vast distances between them. As such, it was decreed by Team Voltron that the Black Paladins would come to New Altea with their baby before continuing on to Daibazaal.

They had taken a private shuttle, Krolia, Keith, and Shiro each taking turns caring for the littlest passenger while they were en route. The baby for his part was largely agreeable and curious, gold eyes wide and watchful as the wormhole eventually gave way to the starfield of Altean space. 

Shiro recognized the wonder there, and smiled to himself.

* * *

“Wait wait wait,” Hunk said, eyes darting between Krolia and Keith. “Your dad’s name was ‘Heathrow?’”

After getting settled—and ensuring their latest addition was amenable to hosting friends, as best they could gather—Team Voltron had descended in an impromptu reunion. Lance and Allura’s daughters had stayed home for the evening, but the rest...well, the rest had been adoring and supportive. They had also been horrified and amused in equal measure that the kit was still unnamed. Which of course gave rise to how Keith got _his_ name, and they had peppered Krolia with questions.

“He preferred to be called ‘Tex,’” Krolia said, but Hunk pressed on.

“Krolia plus Heath equals _Keith_.”

Keith turned horrified eyes on his mother, who was quick to reassure, “You were not named in such a fashion. Though it is an unusual coincidence.”

“We could start a new family tradition!” Hunk said, turning to Shiro.

Shiro for his part clearly saw where this was going and blanched. “No—” 

“Shiro—”

“Hunk—”

“—plus Keith—”

“Stop—”

“—gives us ‘Sheith!’”

“We are not naming my son ‘Sheith.’” 

The paladins around them laughed heartily at Shiro’s flustered distress. Keith smirked and waved a hand in his husband’s general direction. “So spoken,” he said, ending all debate on the matter.

Hunk turned to him and observed with a sneaky grin. “You didn’t oppose the idea though…” 

Keith fought a smile, grateful that Shiro was sufficiently distracted fending off other absurd suggestions from their friends. “No comment.”

Eventually, however, the kit in Shiro’s arms started to drift off and the paladins took that as their queue to disperse. They promised to return the next day—Astrid and Stella in tow—to formally introduce the next generation. 

As Keith shut the door to their retreating guests, he sighed. They really _did_ need a name. Not for just introductions to his cousins, but they were stuck on-planet until they could complete that part of the paperwork. The Alliance had authorized one transfer—from Earth to New Altea—but to get _home_ to Daibazaal...the kit needed a name. Keith didn’t suspect Galra authorities would stop them, per se. But why take the chance. Keith turned and walked back to the common area to find both Shiro and Krolia’s attention wholly absorbed with the sleeping baby in Shiro’s arms. 

Shiro looked up as Keith approached and said, “He needs a name,” unwittingly echoing Keith’s unspoken sentiment.

Keith dropped down onto the couch behind Shiro and rested his chin on his shoulder. The kit was fast asleep, his tail looped around Shiro’s forearm possessively as it usually was. “I know,” he said. “But I can’t think of any that fit. I think I’m still processing that he’s ours.”

Shiro hummed. “Me too.” They were silent for a time but then Shiro suggested, “What about a Galra name? You have one, don’t you?”

“Yorak,” Keith answered.

“What does it mean?”

“It’s, uh… a desert plant,” Keith answered, but the memory—his mother’s memory, truly—was fuzzy.

Krolia chimed in with a soft, nostalgic smile. “With midnight blue flowers. It blooms amidst adversity.”

“That’s beautiful,” Shiro said, voice tender like a caress.

“‘Keith’ was the name Pop chose.”

“And it suits you,” Shiro reassured. He turned his head and kissed Keith’s temple where it was in reach. Another long moment of comfortable silence passed between them until Shiro spoke again. “Krolia, I sense you’re a bit of a romantic. What would _you_ name him?”

Keith glanced up and caught the surprise flicker across his mother’s face. There was a glimmer of sudden tears in her eyes as she reached out to take the kit into her arms. Krolia stared down at her grandchild for a long time. Keith wrapped his arms around Shiro’s midsection, feeling Shiro’s hands come to rest against his forearms as they waited.

At last, Krolia said, “Mitani.”

Keith considered it. “‘Unlikely star?’” he asked, struggling to translate. He was missing context, he knew. Galra was too anecdotal a language to have a simple translation.

“It’s from an old legend, an epic really. The hero sees a star fall from the heavens and catches it in his hands. An impossible event: to catch and hold a star in the palm of your hand.” Krolia looked up at them. “It would be a rare name, befitting a rare chance.”

“Mitani…” Shiro whispered. “In Japanese you could write that as ‘three valleys.’ The three of us were together when we found him, when we found out he was ours, when we named him…” He turned his head and Keith lifted his chin off his shoulder to meet his gaze. “What do you think?” Shiro asked.

Keith smiled. “I think it suits him.”


	6. Soft Landing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A happy ending is a new beginning.

Shiro woke slowly, drifting up from the pleasant darkness into the soft, golden light of Daibazaal’s morning. He hummed and nuzzled the pillow under his head as long fingers stroked through his short hair. “Morning,” he muttered.

“Good morning,” Keith answered. “When did you reattach your arm?”

Shiro blinked sleep from his eyes and noted the prosthesis, curled in towards his chest with its flesh twin. “When he woke up,” Shiro answered with a yawn. “I put it on to feed and change him and didn’t bother taking it off again.”

“He woke up last night?”

“Mm-hmm. So did you,” Shiro said, rolling over onto his back and turning his eyes on Keith, who—still sleep-tousled—looked like he was trying hard to remember. “I told you to go back to sleep.”

“I think I remember that. Vaguely.”

Shiro snorted. “You were  _ really _ tired. Dead to the world the moment your head hit the pillow.”

The two of them lay silently together then, content with the quiet morning. But then Keith whispered, “I’ve been thinking.” Shiro hummed but said nothing, giving Keith space to continue. “Six months ago, I had given up all hope for any kind of domestic life like this. And now...I’m waking up next to you, with a baby in the other room.”

Shiro gave him a sleepy smile. “Life comes at you fast.”

Keith smiled back. “I love you,” he said before leaning down to capture Shiro’s lips in a deep kiss.

It was at this moment that the speaker on the bedside table sparked to life, bright clicks and chirps turned grainy in the audio transfer. “Someone’s awake,” Shiro intoned as he and Keith parted.

“My turn,” Keith said, dropping a chaste kiss to Shiro’s forehead. “You sleep some more.”

Shiro nodded and burrowed back under the sheets as Keith withdrew. Moments later, he heard Keith’s voice over the speaker greet their son, “Hey kiddo.” Shiro drifted back to sleep to the sounds of his family—safe, happy, and full of love.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This formally concludes the [Across Time and Space trilogy](https://archiveofourown.org/series/1443481), which I hereby dedicate in full to [Remsyk](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Remsyk/) / [Devistallion](https://twitter.com/devistallion) who pulled me into the Voltron fandom and especially the Sheith family. I hope you’ve enjoyed the ride, m’dear! I wouldn’t have been here without you. <3


End file.
